Parcel Post
by editor frog
Summary: A "Reid-in-a-box" series that is circulating through several authors. What happens when Morgan learns the hard way that not all movers are the same?
1. The Movers

**Hello again. This is the first in a "round robin" series--this particular tale will be told by several different authors. The focus of this series is on "Reid-in-a-box," or more plainly, what happens when he finds he's been shipped off to a location unknown to him. This dovetails off of my series "The Shopping Trip," so have a look at that before diving in here. **

**Hope you enjoy this introduction!**

**Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine. Only this chapter is. :)**

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"_Everything?"_

"Everything."

"You're serious?"

"Guy who owns the place said he wanted a few things boxed up. Apparently he has some houseguest that's driving him insane and he wants to move the other guy's things out of the way."

"And that's it? We just help ourselves?"

"Hey, he called us to do the moving. Legally, we're doing just that."

The two men were sitting in a large moving truck outside of Morgan's apartment. For the past year the older man, Joe, had had a nice "side business" picking up a few "extra" articles from people's houses and fencing them for a nice price. 

The two took the spare key from the envelope that had been left for them and let themselves inside. Morgan had gone into the office, and Reid was taking advantage of his lone day off by sleeping in—very, very late.

As soon as Joe and his young partner Ben stepped inside the living room, they both thought they had hit the jackpot. All of Reid's housewares were still piled in the tiny space—albeit neatly—and Morgan had more than enough nice furniture and other items to put the two on the road to financial wellville.

"Did this guy say what it was we needed to take?" Ben asked.

"He said 'everything,'" replied Joe. "Least, that's what _**I**_ heard."

A wide grin split both men's faces from ear to ear.

"Wouldn't want to disappoint," said Ben. "Let's get to it."

----

The two "movers" had just finished packing up the last of the kitchen and living room when they heard a loud sound coming from the back bedroom.

"The hell was that?"

"I dunno."

"Go check."

Ben cautiously crept down the hallway, armed with a large crystal vase. He didn't like the idea of walking in on someone that wasn't supposed to be in the place…

As he gently pushed the door open, however, he relaxed his arm. Creeping back to the front of the apartment, he whispered "Hey, Joe! There's someone_ sleeping_ back there!"

"What?"

"Come on, I'll show you…"

Ben led his mentor down the hallway and again gently opened the door. Joe was completely surprised by what he saw—a long, lanky young man snoring his little heart out; completely oblivious to the fact that anyone was in the room.

"Well, I'll be damned. This is a first."

"What do we do with him?" Ben asked, clearly worried.

"We don't hurt him," Joe said flatly. "I'm a thief, not a murderer."

"Well, we can't just leave him there…what if he wakes up?"

The kid had a point. Joe walked out to the truck to think on this a little more.

Suddenly Joe spotted a long, narrow box. It was wooden, about six-and-a-half feet long by about four feet wide.

Returning inside, Joe asked his protégé, "How tall you think that guy is in there?"

"I dunno—my height, probably; about six-two, six-three."

He smiled widely. "Son, I think I have an idea…"

----

When Morgan returned home from work, he expected to see Reid's things gone—after all, he'd paid to have them moved into storage.

What he _didn't_expect was to see his entire place completely emptied of its contents. Whoever the movers had been, they had taken absolutely_everything_---right down to the throw rugs that had lined the linoleum kitchen floor.

"Damn," Morgan spat. He walked down to the back bedroom, hoping Reid would have a few answers for him.

To his surprise, however, Reid was nowhere to be found. 

----

Twelve hours later, Reid woke to some very strange surroundings. He was staring at a plank of wood that lay just inches from his nose. When he tried to push the wood away, it held fast. 

Upon closer inspection, the young genius discovered that he was sealed in a box---a box with tiny air holes and lined with the sheets from his bed at Morgan's place.

_What the hell is going on here? _he thought.

Then he looked at what he was wearing and cringed.

Whoever had put him in this box that seemed headed for a destination Reid didn't know had left him in his pajamas—the old-fashioned ones JJ and Emily had bought for him, complete with cap.

What made matters worse was the realization that the box he was sealed in was moving, and at a high rate of speed.

_Great,_ he thought. _I'm in my pajamas, locked in a box, and headed for God-knows-where. Who on earth thought up this brilliant idea?_

_And where am I going?_

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**A/N: The next chapter is up to tearbos...**_  
_


	2. Unclaimed Baggage

**Hello again. This chapter is the next installment in the "round-robin" series, and the credit goes to tearbos for her brilliance in writing this nail-biter! If you like this, please remember to post her a PM. :)**

**Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine. Nor does it belong to any of my friends (wah!)**

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**Unclaimed Baggage**

Morgan paced worriedly around his now-empty apartment. His footsteps bounced off the walls and echoed irritatingly in his mind. He was entirely at a loss for his next move. He tried reaching Reid on his cell phone to no avail. He called the BAU desperately hoping Reid decided to go to the office to get something. He even tried calling the "moving" company he hired. Of course, the number was "out of service" now that they had his deposit. The street address was also fake; all the mail got forwarded to a post office box downtown.

There was really only one option left, and it was the one he dreaded most. He had to call Hotch and explain the situation. It was the only chance he had to find Reid and his things. Morgan knew he had to act soon too; the longer he waited, the smaller the chance got.

With a deep, reluctant sigh Morgan opened his cell phone for what felt like the hundredth time. He hit the speed dial and waited for the familiar voice.

"Hotchner."

"Uh, Hotch, hi. Um, this is Morgan. I've got a pretty big problem."

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The sudden ceasing of movement snapped Reid out of his light doze. His head still ached from the blow that knocked him out earlier, and the gentle rocking sensation from whatever vehicle he was in allowed him to slip in and out of sleep for several hours after first awakening in his wooden prison.

Now, however, the vehicle was still. The thought that he'd arrived at his destination -maybe his "final" destination_-_scared him more than the knowledge he'd been kidnapped in the first place. Suddenly the limited air surrounding him felt stuffy; he felt sweat soaking into his pajamas and hair. Whatever plans his abductors had could now take place. He almost wished to be back on the road.

He could hear muffled sounds around him: slamming of doors, sliding of boxes, and frantic shouting. None of the words were distinct enough for him to figure out what was happening outside of his enclosed world. These were all just background noises to the deafening thud of his racing heartbeat. 

_Ok genius, assess the situation. The best bet right now is to cooperate. You have no idea where you are, no way to defend yourself, and no way to get help. It's better just to wait and see what these people want._

He stared at his wood ceiling and strained to hear the voices, which seemed to get louder and closer. His body tensed and his breathing quickened as loud, echoing footsteps approached and softly shook the floor under him.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

"This was your idea, Joe!" Ben shouted at his older partner. He knew better than to do that, but the unexpected situation caused him unusual stress, which called for shouting in his book.

"I realize that Ben, but what choice did we have? We couldn't risk him catching us in the act, and we certainly couldn't leave behind a potential witness!"

The two men stood toe-to-toe in Marcus' warehouse. Marcus was Joe's usual buyer, and he typically paid a pretty penny for Joe's goods. They had unloaded the contents of the moving van except for the large wooden box holding their accidental cargo.

"Well, what now? It's not like we can take him back-we're three states away from Virginia! We don't even know who he is!"

"Take a deep breath, Ben, we'll figure this out. Just chill out for a minute and let me think this through."

"Don't take too long! If he dies in there we're screwed!"

"I realize that! Be quiet for a second will you?"

Fuming, Ben stormed off and paced the crowded bay. He started to walk near the box, and then he decided against it until Joe figured out a plan. After a few minutes he hurried back to where Joe was standing.

"Any ideas?"

"I called Marcus."

"What! Why would you do that? The last thing we need is to get someone else involved!"

"Keep your voice down. We aren't the only ones that use this place you know. We need to go inspect the cargo and take inventory."

"What…"

"All of the cargo," Joe emphasized the word meaningfully, hoping Ben would get his implication.

"But what about…"

"You don't get it do you?" Joe sighed. "Marcus thinks this situation will work out nicely."

"How? What are we going to do with the guy?"

"That's why we have to make an inspection, so Marcus can contact his clients."

"Wait, clients?"

"Yes. He said he can treat him the same as the other goods we bring."

"You mean, he thinks he can…"

"Sell him."

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**E/N: The next bit is up to Addicted Archangel...**


	3. Picking Up a Stray

**Hello again. The plot thickens...and it's all up to Addicted Archangel... :) If you like this bit, be sure to send her a PM.  
**

**Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine. Nor, unfortunately, does it belong to my friends.**

* * *

As Ben and Joe were about to finish up the inventory, the heavy iron sliding door in the far end of the warehouse opened with a loud creak. Both men froze, spinning around towards the noise. Joe sighed.

"He's early."

"I thought you said he wasn't coming for another hour?" Ben looked at his older partner, annoyance written all over his face.

"Well, he wasn't. But he's here now; better finish up quickly."

The two men put their papers together as footsteps kept closing in behind them. A moment later, they stopped.

"Are you done?" The tall, darkhaired man stood before them as they turned. Clad in a very expensive Armani suit and exclusive looking shades and accompanied by two large men in the near background, there was no mistaking him. Marcus had arrived.

Ben handed over the inventory list to his boss. "Almost."

"What about the 'special cargo'?"

Joe tapped the box containing the frightened agent. "Haven't gotten to it yet. Thought you might want to be here for that one."

"How right you are. Open it up."

Joe and Ben each grabbed a crowbar and began working the lid of the large wooden box.

* * *

Reid heard the voices outside the box, but couldn't make out the words. He heard faint clinging noises nearby and suddenly the wood above him began to move in a very unsettling way. Breaking and cracking noises assaulted the young agent's ears and he managed to bring his hands up to cover his ears.

Panic flowed through the young doctor's entire system. He wanted to scream, but he was still too scared to let any sound escape his lips. However, his mouth was wide open in fear of what was going to happen.

_What's going on?! What's happening!?_

Suddenly, the top broke open and light poured into the crammed compartment. Reid's eyes burned from the sudden flash, and he squinted, trying to focus his sight.

"Get up."

The young doctor tried to localize the source of the voice speaking to him. As his eyes finally stopped burning, he looked up and found himself staring straight down the barrel of a .45.

Shock came over the young man as he flung his hands up over his chest in a protective motion. He tried to talk, but no sound came out.

"I said, get up." Cocking the gun, Joe motioned to Reid to get out of the box.

Slowly and cautiously, the young agent raised himself and climbed out of the wooden confinement he had spent _god-knew-how-long_ in, all the while keeping his hands in front of his chest. Standing in front of the five men, he felt very disoriented.

"Wh-where am I?" The young man was soaked in sweat and his pajama clung to his body like wet paint. Damp strands of hair lay against the skin on his face and over his eyes, but he dared not move his hands to clear his vision.

"Never mind that. What's your name?" Marcus took a few steps towards the young agent, crossing his arms over his chest.

"S-spencer. Spencer Reid."

"Spencer?" The man before him chuckled. "What kind of name is that?"

"Why am I here?" Reid tried cautiously to get some answers from his abductors.

"Just shut up." Turning towards his subordinates, Marcus placed his hands on his hips.

"What the hell are you bringing me? I thought you said it was a man, not an overgrown boyscout!" Pointing a slender finger at Reid, he scowled. "What am I supposed to do with _this_?

"Well, you said tha..." Ben didn't have the time to finish his sentence before he was interrupted by his superior.

"You said 'man'; I thought 'oh, good – I can sell that'! _This_ isn't a man! _This_ is a stickfigure in wet pajamas!" Marcus was nearly shouting at this time, much enraged by the misleading conversation he had been having with Joe earlier.

Reid froze, staring at the yelling man. _Sell? B-but...?_

Ben tried to oblige the irritated man. "But, sir; there's gotta be something you can do with him? I mean, he's gotta be worth _something_ to _someone_?"

Marcus slowly shook his head looking at the frightened man before him, looking very dejected. Sighing, he walked around Reid, giving him an overlook. "Skinny... No muscles..." He poked the young agent here and there as he went along. "No ass to mention... I can't imagine anyone of my clients wanting this gangly freak. Although..."

Hope rose inside Joe and Ben, while sinking inside the terrified young agent.

"There might be this one client... He's been looking for a new plaything. I'll give him a call. You two," Marcus indicated his two goons on the side. "Get him out of those pajamas. I have to see what I'm selling."

At this, Reid panicked. "No! No, leave me alone!" He backed away from the men advancing on him, trying to beat them off with his thin arms.

One of the men took a flailing arm straight over the nose, and retalitated by sending a fist straight into Reid's nose, knocking him to the floor like a ragdoll.

Marcus bolted towards the group. "No, you idiot – you don't _hit_ him! How am I supposed to sell damaged goods?"

"Sorry boss," the attacking man growled as he pulled Reid back onto his feet.

The young agent swayed slightly as the hands tore off his pajama shirt. He could feel the blood flowing from his nose and down over his mouth, dripping onto his naked chest.

Marcus grunted. "Jesus Christ; will you wipe that off him?! He looks like ground beef! I can't send a preview if he looks like that! And take off that ridiculous hat; he looks like Mr. Sandman!"

Reid's head was coming back online as he felt someone wiping his face and chest with a piece of fabric. His face ached as he blinked, focusing his eyes on the man standing a couple of feet in front of him.

The man held a cell phone up in front of him, pointed at the young agent. "Say cheese." A small flash and a click emerged from the phone as the man began fiddling with it.

Reid had no idea what was going on. This whole situation didn't make sense; it was too macabre to be true. Looking around, he saw Morgan's furniture standing around him in something that looked like a large warehouse or storage unit. His mind was still too fuzzy to put two and two together as to how he had ended up in the facility. All he could do was stare in wonder and listen.

Suddenly, there was another creak in the far end of the warehouse, followed by a soft yet somewhat annoyed voice calling out into the cluttered premises. "Dad!"

Marcus groaned as he turned towards the approaching footsteps. "Did I not tell you to wait in the car?"

The young woman walking up to Marcus smiled a wicked smile. "Yes, but when was the last time I listened?" She tilted her head, looking at her father.

"True." Marcus gave in. "I'll be done here in a moment, I'm just gonna make a phone call, then we'll be on our way."

The young woman looked at Reid, eyes completely empty of any emotions at all. She looked at his as if he was an object; a thing on display. "New mechandise?"

"Yeah. Joe and Ben found him."

"Does he have a buyer yet?" The woman walked over to Reid, scrutinizing him.

Reid watched the two discussing him as if he didn't have a mind of his own. The man looked like some sort of business man, in his mid 40's perhaps. Dark hair, expensive clothing, Rolex watch, Italian loafers. This man was very aware of his appearence and whatever his occupation was –apart from selling stolen federal agents– he surely needed to invoke authority upon those he encountered in his line of work.

The woman looked to be in her late teens or early 20's with short blonde hair, wearing a grey suit, also very expensive looking. Looking like business-in-training, Reid assumed she was fully aware of her father's transactions. He began to wonder what number in the line he had been given on being sold on to an unknown buyer.

"Not yet, but I'm calling Marsh right now." Marcus began dialing his phone."

"I want to keep him."

Reid's head snapped up. _What?!_

"Amanda, why would you want to do that?" Marcus frowned. "Look at him, what could you possibly have him do?"

Amanda took a few steps towards Reid. "He looks smart. Are you smart?"

Reid didn't know what to answer, but he knew from experience that being truthful at a moment like this was always better than lying. "Y-yes."

"See? He can help me with my homework." Turning towards her father she gave him a sweet smile.

"You're 19 years old, Amanda – you should be able to handle your own homework."

The young blonde tilted her head and looked pleadingly at her father. "Can I keep him, please daddy?"

Reid could have sworn he could hear her batting her eyelashes even when her back was against him. Having never felt so humiliated in his life, he just wanted to sink through the floor. Had there not been two loaded guns pointed at him, he would have been running by now.

_She's pleading with her father to keep me like I was a stray dog, following her home._

Marcus rolled his eyes and smiled. "You know I can't say no to you, Ami."

"Thank you, daddy!" She gave her father a happy hug, then turned to the two men who had brought Reid to the warehouse. "Collar, please."

Reid flinched. _Collar...?_

She was handed a strap and a small device, then walked over to the young man, standing before them; nose still bleeding a little. Holding the strap in front of him, smiling. As she tried to reach up to his neck, Reid backed away, avoiding her touch.

Amanda never stopped smiling. "Oh, be a good boy now, and you might get a treat. Come on. That's it. Good boy!" The two goons grabbed the young agent's arms and she managed to get the collar around his neck. There was a small click as the clasp closed, and as he was let go the young man flung his hands up to try and get it off.

"Don't do that. It won't come off, it's locked." Amanda nodded towards the entrance of the warehouse as she began walking. "Come on."

Reid didn't move. He simply stared at the people around him. Fear was no longer an applicable term for the feeling rushing through his body; this was way beyond fear. The young agent was actually hurting in every part of his body from the violent beating of his heart which was sending blood out into his vascular system at an insane speed.

_Good God, _he thought. _Are these people crazy?!_

Amanda turned, holding out a small black object pointed at Reid. As she pressed a button on top of it, the device beeped slightly.

The collar burned around his throat like fire. Reid could feel the electricity shoot into his neck, sending his muscles into involuntary spasms. He fell to his knees, holding his neck; the sounds emerging from his throat not qualifying as words. The pain was horrible.

As Amanda let go of the button, the electric current plaguing his body instantly stopped. Reid panted, realizing what had happened.

He had been put in a shock collar. For dogs.

"Come on now, boy." The young blonde took a few steps before turning to her father. "What's its name?"

"Spencer."

She laughed. "Spencer? No, I don't think so. I'll think of a better name for it. Come on!"

Reid rose to his feet; shaking, humiliated, and terrified. He could do nothing but follow the woman outside.

"Don't get blood on my seats, I just had them cleaned!" Marcus called after them. Smiling crookedly, he nodded. "I just can't deny that girl anything."

"She's a very lucky girl, sir", Joe said.

"Since her mom died I just can't stop myself from spoiling her." He sighed and pointed at the crate. "Bring that to the mansion. He's gonna need something to sleep in."

As the men began picking up the box to transport it to Marcus' house, the tall, well dressed man put his shades back on and returned to the car waiting outside.

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**E/N: The next bit is up to TheLoveThief...  
**


	4. Settling In

**Hello again. This next bit comes from TheLoveThief--if you enjoy this, please be sure to send her a PM.**

**Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine. Nor any of my friends's, either.**

* * *

Morgan was having a very bad day. Not only that almost every man-portable piece had been stolen from his apartment. As if this wasn't awful enough he now had to deal with his pissed-off boss.

At first, Hotch had taken Derek's story for a joke.

„_Yeah, sure. Your furnishings are gone, and with it Reid as well. Perhaps one of his magic tricks went wrong"_, the unit chief had commented sarcastically.

Subsequently, Morgan had shown him his empty flat. Completely aghast, Aaron had searched every single room. But there was nothing left. No furniture and most definitely no genius.

When the shock had faded a little, the team leader had started to reprimand his younger colleague in a slightly patronizing way that Morgan couldn't stand at all.

He didn't need a sermon – after all he blamed himself enough already. If he hadn't been so eager to get Reid's stuff out of his apartment, the kid would still be there. And his kitchen sink, too.

Since the examination of Morgan's place hadn't gotten them any further, Hotch had immediately called together the rest of his team.

They pulled out all the stops. The agents feverishly went from door to door, looking for potential witnesses amongst the neighbours. After all one can't clear out a whole apartment within five minutes. And the Unsubs must have been there with some kind of truck to take away that amount of stuff.

Unfortunately it turned out that most residents had been either away working or simply not paying attention.

Back at the BAU-office they tried a different approach.

„Our best lead is the fake company Morgan hired", Prentiss stated matter-of-factly. „Maybe there were similar incidents in the area."

Derek nodded his approval and jumped to his feet. „I'll get Garcia on it. Let's hope she can work us some magic."

* * *

In reality the drive from the warehouse to Marcus' house only took about 40 minutes.

To Reid it felt like ages.

He was in the backseat, both of his hands cuffed to the headrest in front of him. They hadn't given him back his pajamas, so he was only wearing his plain white shorts. Amanda sat beside Spencer, the small black remote still holding in her hands. _Just in case_, she'd told him.

Her father was driving. He didn't say anything during the trip. Neither did Reid. In consideration of the collar around his tender neck, he didn't dare to speak, let alone move. There was no need to talk anyway, because Amanda made it of her business to entertain the passengers.

Obviously, the young woman took great pleasure in thinking aloud about a „proper" name for Reid.

„Spencer doesn't fit", she stated decisively and stared at the „new toy" to her right indiscreetly. „You need another name, something cute and funny and easy to remember."

Reid tried to block out the girl's irritating chatter. He was still not done with processing the previous events. Just now he'd been sleeping in Morgan's bedroom and suddenly he found himself caught in a box and consigned to a loony woman who treated him like a strayed puppy.

„Oh, oh! I got it", Amanda exclaimed excitedly.

Warily Reid turned to face her.

„Scotty! Yeah, that's it. I will call you Scotty from now on", she declared happily. „I had a border terrier named Scotty once. He died pretty young."

_Maybe the dog didn't take the electroshocks too well_, Spencer mused bitterly.

„Daddy, what do you think of that name?"

The man with the expensive suit shrugged. „Whatever you like, Sweetheart", Marcus commented, apparently more than a bit disinterested.

His daughter didn't care. With a happy grin on her face she leaned back into the seat and kept silent for the rest of the drive – to the delight of both men.

Finally the car turned into a wide driveway. Through a huge black iron gate they approached an impressive residence. The building was actually more of a mansion, surrounded by a lordly garden with lots of exotic trees and manicured lawns.

At the end of the doorway the car stopped.

Wordlessly Marcus and Amanda climbed out of the vehicle, leaving the restrained agent behind. Anxiously Reid tried to catch a glimpse of what was happening outside.

He could see two large guys with white suits standing at the entrance. The man who'd been driving seemed to be their boss. Reid figured that much, given that Marcus was the only one talking, while the other men were just listening and nodding every now and again.

Then one of those large guys moved towards the car. He open the door next to Reid and un-did the cuffs. The big man roughly grabbed Spencer at his right upper arm and dragged him out.

„Take it to my room", Amanda ordered immediately. „And make sure it doesn't run away."

Before Reid had a chance to protest he was manhandled into the house. The guy with the white suit half-carried him up the stairs and shoved him into a room that was almost as big as Morgan's whole apartment.

Without further ceremony the goon forced Reid into a far corner and cuffed him to a vertical iron bar that reached from the floor to the ceiling. Wordlessly the man left the room again.

Spencer took a look around. And was flabbergasted. Everything in there was either pink or white.

_Definitely a girlie's room._

This was ridiculous! Reid was determined to convince his captors that it was a very bad idea to abduct a Federal Agent.

The door opened again and Joe, his kidnapper in the first place, came in with the familiar box.

„Here's your bed", he said and set the box aside. „Hope you have fun with Amanda. Maybe I should warn you. She loses her temper quite easily. Better not provoke her." He smirked at the incredulous expression on Reid's face and left.

Alone again, the young doctor examined his chains, but came quickly to the conclusion that there was no way to escape. He was already at the edge of despair, when suddenly some words of his mentor Jason Gideon crossed his mind...

_The most effective weapon we have is an accurate profile..._

And, of course, the senior profiler had been proven right many times.

Reid tried to gather his thoughts. What did he know about these people? Well, obviously they were rich – and by now the doctor had a very good idea where the money came from. He also knew that Amanda was 19. Considering that age, she was acting and speaking very juvenile.

Probably an only child. Spoiled by her father – because of what? Love? Not likely. Guilt? Maybe. Or was there something else? Reid hadn't seen her mother, yet. Perhaps she didn't have a mom anymore. Dead? Or sold?

„Hey, Scotty", Amanda's high-pitched voice calling from the outside set an end to Reid's musings. „I'm coming now!"

_Can't wait._

Seconds later the young woman stepped into the room. Apprehensively the profiler watched her approaching. She stopped only inches in front of him, the little remote for the collar still clutched in her hands.

„Down on your hands and knees", she commanded with a cold voice. Now she sounded like earlier in the warehouse again.

„I'm not your dog, Amanda. I won't..."

And she pushed the button.

The electricity spread rapidly from Reid's neck through his whole body. He screamed. He didn't want to give her that satisfaction, but currently he had no control over voice.

His legs gave way and fell to his knees. Every part of his body shook violently as the enforced shock faded – way too slowly.

„Yes, you are a dog. My dog, Scotty", the girl said maliciously. „And you will learn to behave like one. You will obey or, I swear, I will bury you right beside the first Scotty. Alive."

„Amy, dinner is waiting!" Marcus' voice called her from downstairs.

„I'm coming, daddy!" His daughter replied in her sweetest tone.

Before she left, however, Amanda reached down to Reid's bowed head and tousled his hair.

„Good boy. I'll get you a feeding dish."

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**The next chapter comes courtesy of LestatHughLover...  
**


	5. Feeding Time

**Hello again. I hope everyone is enjoying this multi-authored story; this part was written by LestatHughLover. If you like it, please be sure to send her a PM.**

**Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not ours. Not even a little, unless one of us has the box sets or TiVo..**

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Feeding Time

Reid barely had time to think, to come up with an escape plan or anything, before Amanda was back with a dog's food dish in her hand. Or maybe his brain had already been fried from one too many shocks, and he'd had plenty of time to think, and just couldn't. The bowl was a dark blue, cheap thing made of plastic, with the name Scotty in bold white letters along the side. Reid swallowed, trying not to be sick, and assumed it had belongs to the other Scotty before him.

He stopped and blinked, confused at his own thought process. Technically he had just referred to himself as Scotty. There was no way he was actually beginning to accept that, so it was official. He'd already had one too many shocks; it was messing up his brain.

Amanda knelt down and set the bowl on the floor in front of him, a smile on her face, "There you go, boy. Eat up and I'll be back after dinner." She glanced over to the box he'd been brought to the warehouse in, "And if you're a good boy, we'll line your bed with something soft and cosy. But only if you eat all your food. Enjoy!" She gave him a couple pats on the head and stood, turning around and walking out of the room.

Reid had to resist the urge to act exactly like an abused dog and growl and snap at her hand. At least then he'd be acting the part. Instead he push it all back down inside and watched her go. Only once the door had closed did he look down at the food he had been given. The smell hit him first and made his eyes water. A strong meaty smell that wasn't entirely pleasant. He blinked away the tears and looked down at it.

He could think of only one positive thing; it wasn't dry dog kibble, which would have tasted horrible. However he wasn't sure if it was wet dog food, or literally puréed table scraps. He didn't figure either would taste much better, but at least he wouldn't have to chew if he could help it. The smell was enough to make him want to vomit, but he knew he couldn't do that. If it had been cold food maybe the smell would have been tolerable, but it had been heated so the wretched scent was wafting off it and assaulting his nostrils.

There was no way he was going to throw up and let himself receive another shock. He needed his brain in full working condition in order to figure out a way out of this mess. If he misbehaved he'd get shocked, which would slow down his thinking process, which would slow down his escape, so the logical conclusion was not to misbehave. He couldn't help but draw a parallel in his mind to Pavlov and his dogs. Was it possible, in such a short span of time, he'd already been conditioned to behave? He supposed it could have been worse; he could be suffering from Stockholm syndrome instead. Though, he rationalized, that usually took 3 or 4 days to set in, so there was still time for that too. Of course, it wasn't in his plans to stay that long.

He studied his food for a moment, and then decided he needed to eat it. He had no idea how long Amanda would be gone, and this needed to be finished before she returned or it was 'bye-bye brain cells' so-to-speak. Or worse yet, an early grave in the back yard. Alive. He realized with a start that he hadn't been given a fork, and even if he had his hands were still cuffed to the iron bar. There was only one possible way he could eat it, and Amanda had known this when she came in and set the bowl in front of him. That was why she had been all smiles.

Reid tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling, and whimpered. He whimpered and whined, just like the hurt dog he was, all the while fighting back tears. _Why? _He wondered. _Why me? Can't somebody else have the humiliation for a change? Like Morgan? He could use a good dose of humiliation to burst his ego._ With a sigh he returned his view to the bowl in front on him and leaned down closer. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and ignored the twisting in his gut as he opened his mouth and began to try and manoeuvre the food into his mouth with only his tongue and teeth as tools.

* * *

Derek Morgan was starting to crack. The continuous stares he received in the past few minutes from his colleagues said only one thing: _This is all your fault._ He hated to admit they were right, because it meant he was at fault, but it was true. They _were_ right. If he had done a little more research on the company first none of this would have happened.

Unable to take the heat from their stares he stood up and excused himself from the room, mumbling something about needing air. He glanced over his shoulder once and saw that all the gathered team members were now talking again, as if sometime during his conversation with Garcia they'd all silently decided not to speak to him, or around him.

He walked blindly down some halls, just needing to distance himself from the stuffy silence he'd been faced with. He knew that wasn't going to help them solve this thing, so why couldn't anyone else see the futility of it? What they needed was Garcia to get back to him about the movers.

As if on cue his cell started a soft chirping which grew incessantly louder the longer it took for him to answer. He flipped it open and brought it to his ear in a rush, "Oh, please tell me you have something?"

"_Wish I could, but I got nothing._"

"Nothing?"

"_Exactly. Nothing._" Garcia paused, took a breath, and continued, "_Stereotypical fake-ness. Address is an abandoned lot, registered to a fake name, no moving vans or vehicles of any sort registered to the fake name or to the company name._"

"Can you look again?"

"_I've already looked three times, muffin. There's nothing there. Not one little crumb._"

Morgan couldn't help but smile at the nickname. It wasn't one of her more creative ones, but it at least let him know she hadn't turned her back on him, yet. "I need something to give the guys--"

"_And girls._" Garcia added.

"And girls, when I go back in that room. They're going to eat me alive with guilt and silence if I don't." Morgan could hear her fingers rapidly tapping on the keys as she tried to find something for him.

"_Okay, how 'bout this? There have been as many as 5 other reported incidents in the area in the last 3 months. Different company names for each though…_" there was another pause, "_but the registered address was the same for each one! Owner's names differ for each company, but I'd be willing to bet they're all aliases for the same person. Maybe one of them has charges to their name. It's a long shot, but I'll look into it._"

"Thanks, baby girl! You're a dream come true."

"_I know._" Garcia replied before disconnecting the call.

Morgan smiled, at least he had something. It may be small, but it was large enough for him to cling to and use as a life preserver. He headed back the way he came to deliver the good news.

* * *

**A/N: For those that don't know, Stockholm Syndrome usually occurs when a person is kidnapped or held hostage, and over a period of a few days despite being kept against their will, they are shown kindness occasionally, and as a result end up sympathising with the person who kidnapped them, and often end up falling (in a sick twisted way) in love with them. Ewww...  
Cheers!  
-LHL**

* * *

**E/N: The next part goes to Transparent Experience...  
**

* * *


	6. Oscars and Bathwater

**Due to popular demand (and other things), we're continuing with the story. This part is by both Addicted Archangel and myself--can you guess who wrote which pieces**?

**As soon as I hear from TE, she's up...**

**Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not ours. Sadly.**

* * *

Reid's stomach was in complete uproar after the absolutely vile substance he had just devoured. Not knowing if it was indeed dog food or mashed table scraps, he felt it didn't really matter. It tasted horrible. And since he had nothing to rinse it down with, the awful taste lingered in his mouth.

Sitting on the floor, he tried once again to assess the situation.

_She obviously has some mental problems. Perhaps an abandonment issue rooting back to when she was a child, and therefor she feels the need to keep a 'pet'. Lack of human contact, human emotions, love, understanding and parental closeness. Her father didn't seem that attached to her emotionally but rather let her have her way just to get rid of her. That would suggest guilt of some sort, either from early abuse or the failure to keep her away from harm. One of them. It's hard to decide which one._

He looked around the huge room. Everything was in pink and white.

_She's still a child. Something happened to her at a younger age making her 'stop growing', and she's been stuck at the same age for a long time. She's 19 years old now, I'd say the event took place around the age of 10. There's been no mentioning of the mother__; perhaps a parental death taken too hard. It's a possibility, and a very likely one._

He now pondered how he could get out of his current predicament.

_She sees me as her dog. Jesus__…what have I fallen into? _

_No, get a grip, Spencer. Focus. What do little girls do with dogs? They pet, they feed, they play... Play. Play games. Play fetch. You can't play fetch inside. We'd have to go outside. But the collar... _

He moaned silently as he remembered the shock collar around his neck. That would prevent him from escaping. But what if...?

_If I get close to her outside, I might be able to grab the remote. But then again, there were big gates when we drove in, __so I'd imagine the walls around this place to be at least as big. But maybe I could hide, or get a message out._

Reid didn't have the time to finish his thoughts as he heard the door opening on the other side of the room. Turning his head, he saw a smiling Amanda walking through the doorway, holding another dish, this one was made of metal. Looking into the bowl on the floor, her smile widened.

"Good boy, Scotty! You finished your dinner!" She tousled his hair with one hand while bending over to place the other dish before him. This one was filled with water. "I thought you'd be thirsty after eating, so there you go."

Reid looked at the girl, then at the bowl. The urge to suck it all down was too great to resist. Anything to get rid of the vile taste in his mouth. Bending down, he set his lips to the water, and began drinking.

"Good boy." Amanda scratched him behind his ear, then walked over to the desk, pulling out her chair. As she sat down, she watched Reid gulping down the water. "Wow, you were really thirsty, boy!"

As Reid finished the water, he nodded and sat back up, suspicioussly looking at the young woman keeping him prisoner. He didn't know what to say; actually, he knew that anything he said could be interpreted as defiance. But he had to try.

"Why are you doing this?" He anticipated a shock, but it didn't come.

"Why am I doing what?" She sounded surprised.

"Keeping me here. Locking me up like an animal, feeding me dog food. Why are you doing it? There are dogs at the pound if you want a pet, why are you trying to turn me into your dog?" Reid bit down hard, still expecting a shock for his questions. He had to try. He had to see what her limit was.

Amanda smiled and slowly shook her head. "Oh, Scotty. You're just not used to it yet. Don't worry, it'll come to you. I'll spend a lot of time with you to make you accustomed to this place – and _your_ place. You need to know your place. That's what you do when you bring strays home!"

"But I'm not a stray dog, Amanda. I'm a fed..."

He halted himself in mid-sentence. _Not a good idea to tell her that_, he thought.

"I'm a man, a human being", he continued. "I'm not a pet, Amanda."

"Yeah, you are! You're _my_ pet!" Still smiling, she jumped off the chair and skipped over to the locked-up agent. Patting his head, she put a hand on his exposed stomach and tickled it.

Reid jerked. The involuntary laughter he let out was not one of joy, but of slight shock. He wasn't expected to be tickled – and he was very ticklish.

"Stop!" he managed to cry out between fits of instinctive laughter.

Amanda laughed as well. "I know you like it, boy! Tickle, tickle, tickle!" And she kept tickling, now with both hands.

Reid tried to wriggle away from her torturing hands, but having his own hands locked to the metal bar, he didn't get too far. He tried to fend her off while laughing, kicking his feet the best he could, but somehow he never really hit her, and she continued her torment on the poor young man.

After a while she stopped and plopped down on the floor in front of Reid, somewhat winded after the tickling. She watched him half lying on the floor, still locked to the bar.

Reid panted as his spastic laughter died out. His eyes had watered from the strain to keep her off his body, and failing. His stomach hurt after the torture, not that it had been that rough, but the laughing had taken its toll on him.

He was nothing less than angry that she had made him laugh. There had been nothing he could do to keep himself from it as her fingers tickled the life out of him, so to speak.

"That was fun!" Amanda proclaimed as she leaned back on the floor.

Reid's mind worked quickly. Apperently his brain cells weren't all fried after all.

_Play along. Win her confidence. Get her to let you loose. Make her think you __**want**__ to be her dog, no matter how humiliating. Remember, she's a child in an adult's body. Children are dumb and gullible. Play her. Play her like a cheap violin._

"Yeah... It was." He tried his best to smile as he strenously pulled himself up to a sitting position, leaning against the pole.

Amanda clapped her hands in excitement. "Good boy, Scotty!" She rose from the floor and walked over to the desk by the huge French window on the far left wall. Picking up a few things from it, she turned back to the shackled agent.

Reid watched her walking over the room.

_Oh, God. What deragned dog__ toy is she going to make me chew on now?_

_Just stick to the plan, Spencer. Stick to it, no matter what. There's no other way out._

Amanda returned and sat down next to Reid, crossing her legs like an Indian. "I thought you could explain some things to me."

Reid looked at her in total confusion for a moment, and then looked at the items she had brought from the desk. They were textbooks; school textbooks, and a notebook:. **_Numerical Methods for Ordinary Differential Equations_****and ****_Algebraic Aspects of the Advanced Encryption Standard._**

_Good lord, _Reid thought. _This isn't a child. This is a highly intelligent person. But she's still stuck at some point in her life. Perhaps my plan will work anyway. I need her to trust me. I have to play her game._

* * *

_Wherever Reid is, I would happily switch places with him right now,_ Morgan thought. It had only been twelve hours since his young friend had gone missing from his apartment, but it already felt like an eternity. They had followed every lead, scoured every record, but they were still no closer to finding him.

And Morgan was suffering. Not only with the thoughts of what could possibly be happening to the young man at that particular moment, but with the perpetual stares and cold shoulder that his colleagues seemed to be giving him.

He'd just left Garcia's office, where the tech genius was still running down a few last leads through the shell company Morgan had 'hired', and he had had what was probably the most stiffest and most formal conversation with the woman since they'd met. Garcia had been all business with him—no teasing, no reassurances, no _nothing. _

_If I didn't know better, I'd swear she blames _me_ for all this,_ Morgan mused.

_Maybe she's right. Maybe this time it _is_ my fault._

He sat back down at his desk, mentally tearing his hair out as he tried to think of any other possible ways to track down Reid's whereabouts. Next to him, Emily took a seat at her own desk, rifling through mounds of paperwork that had been seized from the "office" of the "moving company."

The silence was beginning to grate on Morgan's nerves. "This isn't my fault," he said aloud, to no one in particular.

"What?" Emily murmured, not really paying attention.

"I said, this isn't my fault."

"No one's saying it is."

"Then why do I feel like everyone's blaming me for this?"

"I don't know, Morgan. Why would we blame you for something you didn't do?"

Morgan sighed. "I just…"

Emily looked up from the files on her desk.

"I was just trying to make a little space in the house. I don't mind Reid staying with me, he can stay as long as he needs to, but there wasn't anywhere to _be_ in the house anymore. We both talked about it, and he said he'd put his things into storage. After a couple of weeks, I just…well, I tried to expedite the situation a little. Reid knew I was going to do it, so I didn't think anything of it."

"You just wanted a little space."

"Yeah, but, not like this! I wouldn't have him kidnapped out of my house, not for anything!"

"Morgan. I know. And I agree with you—this isn't your fault."

"Then why does it feel like everyone else thinks it isdoes?"

"How so?" Emily met Morgan's stare with a quizzical look.

"Let's see…Hotch and Rossi haven't said more than five words to me since this started; JJ's holed up in her office and seems like she's avoiding me at every turn; you've been stone-faced about the whole thing—more than the usual professionalism, I might add; and I just had probably the shortest and coldest conversation with Garcia since I've known her. You tell me—why wouldn't I think I was being blamed for this?

Emily let Morgan's words sink in for a moment. "It could also be that we're all worried about Reid. Think about it—we all love him, as strange and brilliant as he is. And each in his own way--Garcia likes to tease and socialize with him, as do you; JJ looks at him as kind of the little brother I know she wishes she had; Hotch looks after him, kind of like he'd watch over his own son; Rossi's getting used to him and finding he likes having him around, and I…well, I know for certain I'd like work a lot less if Reid weren't here in the mornings."

Morgan mused on that for a bit.

"We don't blame you, Morgan. We're just…dealing with this, as best we can."

A head fell into large hands. "Maybe you're right," Morgan mumbled beneath his fingers.

Just then there was a rush of activity, and it was coming from Garcia's office. "I got it!" she shrieked, bringing a flurry of profilers to her door.

* * *

Reid had sat on the floor with Amanda for a good hour explaining equations and algebra to her, and to his surprise, she understood every word he said. He used the time to make his psychological profile of the young woman more accurate.

He had come to the conclusion that she was indeed very intelligent, judging from her questions and level of understanding the answers. She had a very analytical mind, leading him to believe that the mental retardation only existed on the emotional aspect of her mind.

The young doctor had also determined that he was not going to be able to play mind games with this woman. She was too smart for that. But he was sticking to the plan. It was all he had.

As Amanda closed the books with a satisfied sigh, Reid thought for a moment that he would be left alone with his thoughts once again.

But oh, how wrong he was.

"Well..." Amanda began. "That was fun. I like math, and judging from your babbling, I think you do too."

"I do. It was my favourite subject in school." _That's it, get close. Show her that you're human._

"I can imagine." She rose and went to put the books away. Upon her return, she reached into her pocket.

Reid jerked and moved away slightly. His subcounscious mind reminded him of the shock-treatment he had been subjected to earlier.

"Oh, no no no, Scotty – I'm not gonna hurt you!" she reassured him as she patted his head with a smile. "You've been a good boy, so I'm gonna give you a reward!" She took her hand out of her pocket, and it held a small key.

A spark lit up inside Reid. _She's going to unlock the cuffs!_

"Are you going to be a good boy if I let you go?"

Reid nodded. "Yes, I promise."

A smile. "Good." She reached over and released him from his shackles.

As they fell from his wrists, Reid pulled his arms in close, rubbing the skin where the metal had been chafing him. "Thank you, Amanda."

"You're welcome! Now let's get you cleaned up, you smell terrible!"

Reid blinked.

"What?"

"You need a bath!"

Reid's insides twisted into a painful knot. Exposing himself to this deranged woman was _not_ something he was prepared to do. "No... I don't think I need a bath, Amanda." He tried desperately to keep his calm.

Amanda's eyes changed from happy to stern. "You do, Scotty. Now be a good boy and don't talk back to me." Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the small black remote for the collar.

Reid panicked. "No, no don't! I'll be good!" He put his hands up in front of his chest, unknowingly making puppy eyes at the woman before him.

It softened her gaze a bit. "Aaw, don't look at me like that, Scotty! You know I can't resist those eyes!" And the smile returned, to the relief of the young doctor.

"Come on, let's go! Bath time!" She clapped her hands to make him move.

Reid muttered on the inside. The thought of having to bathe before this woman made his stomach churn. At the moment he was only wearing pajama bottoms and boxers, and was already very self-conscious. He had a hard time showing more skin than absolutely neccesary on a regular basis, and this was already way too much exposure.

But the choice wasn't his anymore. He didn't hold the remote. And he wasn't too fond of the thought of getting electrocuted again.

He made a move to rise, but was abruptly stopped by Amanda.

"No no. Scotty, dogs can't walk on two legs." She crossed her arms over her chest.

Reid looked at her. _She has got to be kidding. She's going to make me crawl?_

Amanda motioned him to move. Reluctantly, he began to crawl on all four over the floor, feeling blood rushing to his head. He had never been so humilated in his life. Anything before this was a walk in the park. Being demoted to a common pet was lower than he had ever sunk before.

"Good boy!" Amanda patted his head as she walked next to him.

As they exited the room, Reid prayed no one would see them. Of course, his prayers were not answered. A bit further down the hallway he could see Amanda's father coming towards them. He smiled as he saw the odd couple "walking" down the hall.

"Is he behaving, sweetheart?"

"Yes, daddy – he's been a very good boy. I'm gonna give him a bath now!"

Marcus nodded. "I think he needs it." He sniffed the air. "He smells awful."

"I know. But I'll sort that out once I get him into the tub!" Amanda smiled as she patted Reid's head.

The silent screams and profane swearwords echoing in Reid's mind was something he was sure to be shot for if he ever wanted to express it verbally. He simply kept his gaze on the floor beneath him, not making eye contact with either person beside him.

"Sounds good." Marcus put a hand on Reid's head and tousled his hair. "You keep being a good boy, now – my sweetheart here has quite the temper. Wouldn't want you to end up like the last two Scottys before you."

"Daddy!" Amanda put her hands on her hips and gave her father a very accusing stare.

"I'm just saying..." Marcus shrugged with a smile and continued his walk through the corridor. "Have fun, sweetheart!"

"I will! Come on now, Scotty! We need to get you clean; yes we do!"

Reid very reluctantly followed his warden as if walking the green mile; or rather, crawling it.

* * *

"Once this popped up, it was cake," said Garcia, showing the team a part of an encrypted file that had been buried in one of the 'moving company's' hard drives. It was a three-page letter with intricate details of transactions—articles sold, inventoried, and delivered to various places all over the world.

"It's like a who's who for the consummate shopper," Garcia noted.

"Some of these things are so…ordinary," commented Emily. " I mean, who really cares if someone has a pressboard desk sitting in the living room?"

"That's what I thought at first," said Garcia. "Then I ran a little program of my own design, patent pending, and voila! Creep show time."

The tech punched a few buttons, and instantly the screen changed. Instead of various "normal" items that could be found on any shelf or in any house, there was a listing of some very 'hard-to-find' items.

"A 1933 Double Eagle?" said Rossi.

"What's that?" asked JJ.

"Only one of the rarest coins in the world," he replied. "FDR stopped production on them, and those coins were never legally issued. A few were stolen from the government, and only one has ever been 'legally' sold at auction. There were twenty or so turned in, but there were more stolen…wow."

The team perused the list Garcia had brought up, looking at the extraordinary items on the list.

"There's some missing paintings on this list—a couple Van Goghs, a Rembrandt, a Renoir…" Emily said, showing an interest in fine art.

"Seventeen pounds gold bouillon?" said JJ, her voice rising in question.

"Vivien Leigh's Oscar for _Gone with the Wind?_" squeaked Garcia, showing off her knowledge of film trivia.

"This list goes on and on," said Hotch, having scrolled down some of the items. He was particularly interested that it claimed to have sold a replica of the Hope Diamond, one cut from a cousin of the famed stone.

"Yeah, and, there's addresses for all these things. Whoever did their bookkeeping was meticulous."

"Just like the Nazis," said Emily. "The bookkeeping's gonna kill them."

At the end of the listing were a few random names. All of these names went to one place—a listing up near Newport, Rhode Island.

"I wonder what the names are for," said Hotch.

Garcia entered each one in a search engine, and was mortified by what came back. "They're people," she said.

"Well, yeah, but…"

"No, no no, oh my…"

"What is it, baby girl?"

The woman pointed to each face that came up on her screen; all of them having pretty faces and even features. "These people went missing along with their stuff--just like Reid…"

"My God," said Emily. "The people behind the thefts just 'sold' them along with everything else?"

"It looks that way," said Garcia sadly.

* * *

Reid sat in the tub, water reaching him to just above the belly button. He was covered in suds after being thouroughly cleaned by Amanda. Tears had gathered in his eyes as she reached between his legs to wash some more delicate parts of his body. This was a special form of violation--one where the violator herself didn't even realize how much she was intruding on the victim's personal space.

He tried to shield himself with his arms and legs, pulling them up to his chest. It made little difference, as her hands had already been to all the places he tried to protect.

Amanda rummaged through the bathroom cabinet, apperently looking for something. Upon finding it, she happily turned to her 'pet' sitting in the tub, looking at her from under his sud-studdered bangs.

"Here we are!"

Skipping over to the tub, she opened the small container and poured something white into her hand.

"Wh-what is is..?" Reid managed to speak between the gags he got thinking about the entire absurd situation.

"K9 Advantix Blue. It's flea shampoo for dogs. We need to make sure that you're not bringing anything nasty into the house, now, don't we? Yes, we do! Yes, we do!"

Without waiting for a reply, she jammed her fingers into Reid's tousled curls and began working the shampoo in. It smelled awful.

Reid cried angry, salty tears under Amanda's rough hands rubbing his scalp. How did he let himself sink this low. He was getting a flea bath. The silent tears fell from his eyes down into the lukewarm bath water, swimming with suds.

"There we go. Time to rinse!" She grabbed the shower head and held it over the young man's head. The water shooting out was freezing. Reid yelped from the sudden cold and jerked away from the shower, but Amanda held a firm grip on his arm. "Oh, no you don't! You need to rinse! Close your eyes."

But it was too late. The foul smelling flea shampoo had already made its way into Reid's eyes, and he whimpered from the pain, trying to rub it out. Amanda held the shower to his face to rinse his eyes. All the while, the young doctor was squirming violently, splashing water everywhere.

After what seemed to be an eternity, he could finally see straight again and apperently he was done bathing as Amanda hung up the showerhead in its place and reached for a towel. Not for Reid, but for herself. The young man in the bathtub had been flailing so much that Amanda was completely soaked. Drying herself off, she eyed the young agent sitting in the tub.

"Phew. That was quite the ordeal, wasn't it? At least you're clean. But that shampoo smelled like shit! I don't want you in my room tonight, you smell worse now than you did when you got in the tub!"

She motioned Reid to get out of the tub and onto the floor. Having been forced to crawl into the tub, the young man knew he'd have to crawl out. His eyes still stung from the awful shampoo as he struggled to get out of the tub and onto the floor.

Amanda kneeled beside him, holding a towel. As Reid stood on all four, she carefully dried every inch of his skin with the towel. When she thought he was dry enough, she stood up.

"There we go. Now get back in your pants and underwear and I'll show you where you're gonna sleep."

The angry tears were still falling down his cheeks as he quickly slipped into the underwear and pants he had been forced to remove prior to the bath.

_I'm not a dog,_ he thought. _I'm not. And I didn't need a flea bath._

He crawled on the carpeted floor behind his perpetual warden as she made her way down the stairs. He didn't care if anyone saw him. He had been humiliated far too much to care about anything anymore.

_It can't possibly get worse than this..._

But once again Dr. Reid was wrong. Very wrong.

Reaching a door made of thick, dark wood, Amanda stopped to unlock it. "Here's your room", she said with a happy smile, as if she was showing him heaven. The 'room' was far from heaven.

It was the basement. And it was scorching hot. The basement seemed to double as boiler room. Reid had a feeling the house was big, but big enough to need a boiler room? Was he missing something? He shook his head, as he crawled after Amanda down the stairs.

The thought of pushing her down the stairs crossed his mind, but he decided against it. It wouldn't help him. There were goons in the house, and he didn't know the exits. He needed to get outside.

"Here's you room, Scotty!" She gestured widely with both arms at the room before him.

There was no way he could get even remotely close to the boiler. That left him with about 50 sq ft. in one of the far corners.

"I'll tell Paul and Steve to bring your bed down. And I promised to put something soft in it if you ate your food, and I am a woman of my word. Now you have a good night's sleep, and tomorrow we'll play in the garden – but only if you're good!" She raised a warning finger, but kept her smile.

As she walked up the stairs, she turned and waved at Reid. "Night night, Scotty!"

The slam of the door told Reid it was safe to get up off the ground. He ran up to the door, only to find that it lacked a doorknob on the inside. A deep sigh emerged from his already exhausted throat. He looked around as he walked down the stairs. No windows. No other exits. One lamp in the ceiling. A boiler. Boxes. Tools. A workbench.

_I'm stuck._

Anger raged through every part of his body, and he had gotten to the point where he couldn't control it. He let out a high, enraged scream and kicked some tools with all the force he could upbring. He sent the tools flying all over the basement, but it wasn't enough for the insanely frustrated young man. He grabbed a box filled with screws from a bench and hurled it at the door where Amanda had exited moments earlier.

His anger subsided after a few more tantrums during which he threw things around him. As the young doctor calmed down, he looked at the mess he had made.

_This can't possibly be good..._

The door above him opened, and two men entered carrying the crate Reid had been enclosed in before. As they made their way down the stairs, the young doctor backed away. They placed the box on the floor in the middle of the room.

One of the men turned to Reid. "I'm not moving this thing again, so you better behave." Then he saw the mess made in the cellar. "What the hell..?"

Reid tried to back away more, but the wall stopped his retreat.

"What the hell have you been doing down here? There's shit everywhere!" The very large, very angry man advanced on Reid, who made a failing attempt to escape the ape-like hands reaching out for him. He was caught by the arm, and jerked back, being half lifted, half dragged over the floor.

"Look at this mess!" The man pointed at the scattered and broken objects on the floor.

"I'm-I'm sorry!" Reid tried.

"Oh, yeah – real sorry. You know what you do when dogs are disobedient?"

Reid didn't want to know.

"You beat some sense into them!"

He didn't have to work for long. After two swift and very powerful blows to the face, the young agent fell back, landing in the box where Amanda had put a knitted quilt. Reid felt his world spinning as he drifted into blissful unconsciousness.

The men looked at the young man laying sprawled half in the box, half outside it. His nose bled, so did the side of his mouth where it had been left partially open after the punches. Steve shook his head.

"That's not a dog. That's a pussy."

The men made their way up the stairs, leaving the blacked out agent bleeding in his steaming hot prison, bleeding down onto the white, knitted quilt.


End file.
